Akropolis dogs

The Vagabond is living it up in style tonight, writing to you from poolside at the Renia Hotel. I’ve included a link at the right hand of the screen. The manager has graciously allowed me to use his internet free of charge for this post, indicative of the graciousness you’ll find among the staff here. They’ve been a big help to our group of eleven in only the few short hours since we rolled into town. If you come to Agia Pelagia, a small town about 22 miles west of Iraklion in Crete, tell them the Vagabond sent you. Now that we’ve given the proper shout out to tonight’s post’s sponsors…

Hotel Renia

“Stop emiting phermones.”

Seven of us make our way down Avgoustou, toward the old Venetian port, accompanied as usual by three or four stray dogs. Luke, a man born with no fear of rabies, scratches one of them affectionately on the top of the head and grins.

“Seriously,” Jen continues. “HOW are you doing this?”

From Pylos, to Athens, and now Crete, Luke has demonstrated a ngh-Beastmaster ability to befriend Greece’s dogs.

An Akropolis dog, one of Luke's friends

The reaction of the local canine population to his arrival in every city we’ve passed through is both so immediate and dramatic that we can only assume that by spreading his arms wide (which he does, as if to embrace every new port of call in an eager and affectionate bear hug) his armpits emit the doggie equivalent of catnip.

Either that, or his voice transmits some hypersonic dog-whistle frequence that screams “Fried of dogs! Hear me!” Phermones has been given 3:2 odds.